Lost and Found
by Bombshell1701
Summary: Steve is alone, but not all is lost. Post-Captain America/pre-Avengers. Rated T for some angst. Please R&R. Author's note at the end.
1. Chapter 1

**Lost and Found**

"No-one expects you to pick everything up straight away; we've had decades of gradual change, you've been dropped right into the middle of it." Sitwell said gently.

"I know" Steve said quietly. "It's just not much fun to feel so obsolete."

Sitwell looked at him, openly surprised. "You're not obsolete, you never will be. You're _Captain America_. That still means something to people around here."

Steve forced himself to smile as warmly as he could. "Same time tomorrow?"

Sitwell nodded, and patted the laptop computer they'd been working on. "I want you to keep practicing. Don't worry too much, you can't break it. Well, unless you actually _break_ it."

"I'll try not to throw it out the window." Steve assured him, though that was exactly what he wanted to do to the device. And then he'd throw his new cell phone and the television right after it. That would be ideal.

"Have a good evening, sir" Sitwell said, excusing himself.

"Hey, Sitwell?" Steve called. "Could you… uh… could you loan me a few bucks? Just for a few days until they get my back pay and pension sorted out."

"Sure" Sitwell said, reaching for his wallet. He handed Steve a twenty. "Is that enough?"

"That's great. I promise I'll get it back to you."

"No problem." If Sitwell was curious why Captain America needed cash, he didn't let on.

"Where are you going, Captain Rogers?"

Steve stopped, but didn't turn to face Nick Fury.

"For a walk. Thought I might find a burger place, get some dinner." He glanced back over his shoulder at the man. "They _do_ still make burgers in this country, right?"

"Commissary upstairs does. Pretty good too, from what I hear."

Steve was quiet for a moment, choosing his words very carefully. "I need some fresh air. I've been cooped up in this building for weeks now. I just want a night off. I want to get out there, see what it's really like out there now."

Fury silently contemplated him. "You won't much care for it."

Steve shrugged "What else is new?"

Steve looked up at the unfamiliar façade, and the unfamiliar skyscrapers beyond that. Yep, he was lost, all right. He sighed, and thrust his hands into his pockets. The sun had long set, the temperature had dropped, and he'd lost track of how long he'd been wandering. He hadn't come across a diner in his ramblings, so he'd bought a succession of hotdogs from street vendors as he walked. He paused, looking back down the way he'd come. He knew he'd have a tail or two, and it galled him that he was going to have to identify the S.H.I.E.L.D. spooks and ask for their help in getting back to HQ. He walked slowly, looking carefully at every adult he saw, but after twenty minutes he was still alone, and possibly even more lost. Then, to add insult to injury, it began to rain. Steve turned his collar up, and sought refuge in a doorway, pausing to decide what to do. It seemed improbable that Fury had let him out without a shadow. Maybe they had been instructed to do this on purpose- let him get himself lost, just to prove a point. He laughed briefly and bitterly; he didn't know Fury very well, but that seemed like something the man would do.

He leaned against the doorway, thinking, when he felt a strange sensation of familiarity. It took him a moment to realise he could hear music coming from down the hallway, and it was a song he knew… He drifted further in, drawn towards the music, and stopped outside an open door. He listened to The Andrews Sisters sing about the _Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy_, and for a moment he didn't know _when _he was. He peeked into the room. It was a large dance studio, and a dozen or so couples we scattered about the room, attempting to keep in time with the lively pace of the music. Some of them moved confidently, and were clearly enjoying themselves. The other looked almost as lost as he felt, as they went through the motions. The instructors worked their way from couple to couple, correcting and encouraging.

He stood and stared at the dancing couples, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was completely familiar, yet he had never himself danced. He'd made a date to, once….

"You're not too late." A female voice said.

Steve startled out of his reverie. The female dance instructor had come over to him. He stared at her.

"Class really only started a few minutes ago, so you've got the rest of the hour if you'd like to join in? This is the beginner's class. Are you a beginner?"

Steve's eyed strayed back to the dancers and he nodded.

"All right. Well, it's ten dollars per class-"

Steve reached into his pocket and produced a bill without really even thinking about what he was doing. He handed it to her.

"We take payment at the end of class, but that's okay. Come on in, don't be shy" she said. She took Steve by the arm and very gently guided him into the class. He looked at her. She had a friendly face, and when she looked up at him, it wasn't with curiosity or pity; something he'd gotten used to these past few weeks.

"Have you ever danced before?" she asked him.

"No. Never. But… I've always wanted to."

"Well, then," she said with a smile. "You're in the right place, at the right time."

Author's note: I own nothing, and I gain nothing but amusement from writing these stories. Again, my thanks to Voiceofdisbelief for running her experienced eye over this for me. This might eventually move a to Marvel's The Avengers movie category, should they ever create one! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this.


	2. Part Two: Baby Steps

**Baby Steps**

"So, tell me how you've been feeling?" Dr. Gerrard asked.  
Steve breathed out slowly, trying to keep the resentment off his face. "Better" he lied.  
"The panic attacks?"  
"Still coming." Steve swallowed and looked down. "Not as bad now, not as often."  
"That's good. That's very good." Dr Gerrard. "Why do you think that is? Have you developed a... coping mechanism?"  
Steve shook his head. "I think reality has finally sunk in. I spent the first few weeks convinced HYDRA was playing some sort of elaborate trick on me. But once I actually got out there, on the streets, started dealing with people... I don't think even HYDRA are cruel enough to pull a stunt like that. So here I am, playing catch-up with the world."  
"Catch-up, yes. The learning curve you're on must be staggering. But I hear you're doing tremendously well. You continue to work with Agent Sitwell?"  
Steve gave a small, humourless laugh "He tries, poor guy. He must've pissed off Fury pretty badly to get stuck babysitting me. He sure is patient, I'll give him that.""  
"A lot of agents would look upon the task of bringing you up to speed as an honour."  
Steve silently studied the SHIELD doctor for a moment. "Wouldn't take long for the novelty to wear off, I'm sure." he said coolly.  
The doctors scribbled some notes onto his pad.  
"Can you tell me, Captain, some things you've discovered about the past seventy years that you like?"  
Steve thought for a moment. "_Futurama_."  
Gerrard looked surprised. "The TV show?"  
"Yeah. Every time I'm feeling low, I remind myself that I only skipped seventy years. Fry skipped a whole millennium."  
Gerrard chuckled. "Very nice. What else?"  
Steve shrugged. "I joined the library; got a lot of books on twentieth-century art- some good stuff, really... experimental, cutting edge. I got some fiction, too. _To Kill A Mockingbird_. _The Lord of the Rings_. Those _Harry Potter_ books, they're a gas."  
"Have you seen the films?"  
"Not yet, I'm still working my way through the books, I don't want to spoil it"  
Gerrard nodded.  
"I've seen a bunch of other movies, though. _Singin' In the Rain_. _Princess Bride_. _Dances With Wolves_. _Rear Window_."  
"Very good. Good choices. Though... reading and film-going are very solitary habits."  
"I was always a solitary guy. I read a lot growing up because I was too sick to do much else. I find it comforting."  
Gerrard made a note and then studied him. "Have you made any efforts to be social?"  
"Who with?" Steve shot back. "All my friends are dead. Kind-of makes for a small social circle."  
"Have you made any efforts to make new friends?" Gerrard redirected.  
Steve shook his head. "What would I have in common with anyone nowadays? What could I talk about with people, apart from a few films, a handful of books?"  
"Well, I hear you've been going to dance classes." Gerrard played his trump card.  
"Wow, you guys don't miss a trick." Steve grumbled.  
Gerrard shrugged. "SHIELD _is _a spy agency. I myself am not a spy, just a therapist, but one hears things..."  
The two men stared at each other.  
"Dance classes are very social. I think this is an excellent activity for you. Though... I do wonder, what kind of dancing is it you're learning?"  
Steve felt irritated; he didn't want to talk about this. It wasn't embarrassment. It felt... private and too new. This was something he was finally doing for himself, and he didn't want to justify it to some SHIELD shrink.  
"It's called West Coast Swing." he said quietly.  
"I've heard about it. Sort of a mash-up of Jitterbug and Lindy Hop?"  
"I guess."  
"Sort of like the dancing they used to do back in the Forties." Gerrard suggested.  
Steve could see where the doctor was going with this.  
"I wouldn't really know. I never danced back then, didn't know how."  
"And now you do."  
"So, you think _this_ is my coping mechanism? Retreating into the safety of the familiar."  
"Isn't it? Maybe you didn't know the steps, but the music, the style. That has to be comforting?"  
Steve laughed quietly. "I have two left feet and I can't say more than ten words to any dame without blushing, but I'm pressed up against them all night. Does that sound comforting to you?"  
"So why do it?"  
"Because I always wanted to. And now is as good a time as any. I like the music, sure. What I really like is that everyone there is on the same page as me. They're all learning something from scratch. And they're all just as awkward and unsure as I am. I'm not the biggest idiot in the room for once, which is what the rest of 2012 has been for me so far."  
Gerrard nodded slowly. "Good point." He made a flurry of notes. "This is excellent, Captain. I couldn't have suggested better therapy myself. You're taking baby steps, but they're active, social ones." he looked very pleased with himself, and Steve decided to let him take the credit.  
"Well, I'd like to see you continue with these classes, and perhaps consider picking up something else, say, art classes at a community college? Modern literature might also be a good choice."  
Steve managed to not roll his eyes. "Just one thing at a time, please. I know you're all used to multitasking and doing eighteen things at once, and pushing yourselves to cram every minute of your day with things to do; but I'm old-fashioned. I still need to figure out how to use my phone without breaking it. I'd like to get through even one Swing class without stepping on the teacher's toes. And I still can't double-click worth a damn. Just give me time? Like you said, baby steps."  
Gerrard nodded. "Fair enough. Hang in there, Captain. We'll make a modern man of you, yet."  
Steve frowned as he considered that. "Let's hope not."

_TBC_

_Author's Notes: This part takes place just before the Captain is called up to join the Avengers Initiative. Disclaimer: I own nothing. Much love to Voiceofdisbelief, who loves to watch me make the Capt. suffer!_


	3. Part Three: A Second Chance

**A Second Chance**

"Are you having a good time?" the teacher asked him.  
Steve nodded. He was sitting at the bar, watching his classmates take over the dance floor. Once a month his class took their newfound skills out in public for social dancing at a rockabilly-style club. This was the first time Steve had joined them.  
"Everyone is doing really well. And the live music is a treat." he commented.  
"I haven't seen you get up and dance yet." she teased.  
"Oh, no... I'm happy just to watch." he said shyly, sipping his beer.  
She made a hum of disapproval. "If you're too nervous to ask one of your classmates, I'll dance with you. I promise to make you look good."  
"I would hate to step on your toes in public." he admitted.  
She chuckled and stuck out a foot "I have steel caps in these. They're Steve-proof" she joked.  
Steve raised his eyebrows.  
"I'm joking" she assured him. "Look, you don't have to break out anything fancy. We'll stick with the basics, get the band to take it slow-"  
Something she said triggered a memory, and Steve looked away, feeling as though he'd been punched in the chest.  
She looked at him, concerned. "Uh- are you okay?"  
"Yeah" Steve breathed, still reeling.  
She studied him quietly for a moment, clearly unsure what she'd said to upset him. "Well, the offer's there." she said kindly. "I'd like to see you having fun, Steve."  
Steve swallowed and nodded.  
She patted his arm and wandered off into the crowd.  
Steve turned away from the dance floor to face the bar, and put his face in his hands for a moment, breathing deeply. He felt like he'd come such a long way in the past few months. Being part of a team again- getting out in the world and helping people- had brought his life back into focus. He felt like he was ready for more. This was supposed to be a positive social experience, but it was _hard_. Even looking at his teacher filled him with conflicting emotions; she was dressed like she had stepped right out of the 1940's- everything from her hair and her dress to her shoes made for a visage that was achingly familiar to Steve. The longing to be back where he came from was painful, but nothing in the world was going to make that happen. He sighed deeply. This was his life now. This time; this crazy, conflicting world he'd didn't quite yet understand. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and turned to watch the dancing again, wondering if he'd ever truly strike a balance and feel like he belonged.

***

"Would you, uh... would you care to dance?" Steve asked nervously.  
"I would be honoured" the teacher said, smiling. Steve took her hand and she guided him onto the dance floor. He took her into his arms somewhat self-consciously as the band struck up a slow number, _"We'll Meet Again."_ He stopped, listening for a moment, before sighing out a laugh. "Haven't heard this one in a while."  
She nodded thoughtfully. "It always makes me a little sad, thinking about people going off to war, and sometimes never coming home."  
"Or coming back to a world they didn't recognise anymore."  
She considered that and nodded, then subtly corrected Steve's posture. He smiled. They danced in silence for a moment.  
"Do you enjoy the classes?" she asked.  
"Yeah. They're good. It's great." Steve said quietly.  
"You... don't really seem to enjoy yourself. I keep expecting you to quit."  
He smiled slightly and shook his head "I'm not a quitter."  
"Good. You just take it _so_ seriously. I don't think I've seen anyone try as hard as you do. I wish you would have more fun with it."  
Steve shrugged. "I always feel like I've been left behind in life. This is one thing I just really want to get right."  
She studied him for a moment. "Then relax. You'll learn more if you let go and actually enjoy yourself. Then it won't be such a chore. Are you learning for any particular reason? To impress a girl?"  
Steve blushed and shook his head. "Just for myself."  
"That's the best reason." she assured him. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You're doing a lot better than you probably realise."  
"Am I?" he asked himself.  
The song ended, and they drifted to a stop.  
"You are" she told him flatly. "We just danced for that whole song, and you didn't step on my foot once."  
Steve looked down at his feet, not quite believing they'd behaved themselves. "Really?"  
"That's progress." she smiled warmly at him.  
Steve returned her smile. "Progress..." he said thoughtfully.

_Fin_

Author's notes: I really appreciate people who take time to leave feedback! Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to continue this when it was just an idea and a possibility. I'm wrapping it here, because this is a good place, and I really don't want to stray too far into 'Mary Sue' territory! Thank you to Voiceofdisbelief for checking it over. Disclaimer: I own nothing and make nothing from this.


End file.
